Proper Care and Maintenance
by carpetinflight
Summary: Harry helps Ginny fix a wayward broom, and some other things as well.


He was sitting on the front steps of the Burrow with his chin in his hands when Ginny dropped out of the sky.

"Hey Harry," she said, dismounting smoothly and plopping down on the grass just out of his reach. She held her broom in her hands and laid it across her lap, frowning down at it. Her head was bent over her lap and the sun caught her hair just so, reflecting a rich light the color of persimmons and holly berries and caramel candies, somehow all wrapped into one.

"Hi," he said, a moment too late.

She looked up at him, amused.

"What's, ah--" he said, trying desperately to deflect attention away from his own stupidity. "What's wrong with the broom?"

"I don't know," she said, looking back down at it. "It's having trouble going backwards. I just hope I can get it working again by the time the season starts."

Harry smiled wistfully. In all the panic and danger of the last year, he'd almost managed to forget about Quidditch.

"What if you can't get it working?" he asked. In his mind, he saw himself arriving at the Quidditch Pitch in the nick of time, presenting her with a brand new CumuloNimbus broom with a big red bow on it. Ginny would forget all those things she said about feeling abandoned and relying on herself, and she'd kiss him in front of the whole school just the way that--

"Oh, I'll make it work," she said grimly.

All that afternoon Ginny sat on the hearth-rug, hunched over her antique Cleansweep. Fleur and Mrs. Weasley emerged from the kitchen periodically with sample hors d'oeuvres for Charlie's wedding, only two days away. Weasley brothers dashed in and out, juggling luggage, dress robes, and mountains of gifts. Through it all, Ginny stayed in place, carefully polishing and trimming the broom as the entire household whirled crazily around her.

Harry walked through the room with an armload of linen tablecloths and glanced at Ginny. She had her wand out and was casting spells that Harry thought he'd seen Madam Pomfrey use.

_Well that's daft_, Harry thought. _Why use medical spells, when there's all those--_

"Oh," he said aloud. _She must not know the--_

Ginny looked up at him, her wand hovering in midair. "Oh?" she repeated.

Dropping the tablecloths on a nearby armchair, he raced up the stairs. Fred and George, coming down with a crate full of silverware, dodged to one side and Harry flattened himself against the banister. As soon as they had passed, he ran up the stairs again, reaching Ron's room at the top of the stairs.

He stopped in front of his open trunk and stuck his arms all the way in, rummaging through old robes, schoolbooks, parchments, Weasley jumpers, and the general detritus of six years at Hogwarts. At the bottom, wedged in the back corner underneath a bag of stale owl treats, was _The Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broom Care_, somewhat battered and worn, but still definitely usable. It wasn't quite as good as the brand-new broom he'd dreamt of presenting Ginny with, but he knew in his heart that she'd probably never accept such an extravagant gift anyway. He hurried down the stairs again, pausing only for Bill, who was levitating an entire rack of midnight-blue dress robes up the narrow staircase.

It had only been a few minutes, but by the time he got back to the living room, Ginny and her broom were gone. Just his luck.

He threw the book down onto the sofa with more force than was strictly necessary, and it bounced onto the floor, landing with its covers splayed and pages mashed against the carpet. With a sigh, he bent down to pick it up, and a flash of movement caught his eye. When he looked out the window, he saw noting but the darkening evening sky, but he sprinted outdoors anyway. He knew what he'd seen, and sure enough, high above the trees on the western edge of the Weasleys' property, a broom floated gently in the air. He could barely make out the outline of the rider, but he knew it had to be her.

His own broom was under his bed on the top floor of the house, and if he went back to get it she'd probably fly away again, so he ran towards her and sent up a shower of red sparks with his wand to get her attention.

A peal of laughter rang out clearly from above him, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. "I don't think setting the broom on fire will fix it," Ginny called, her voice teasing.

"I think I found it." Harry tipped his head back and found her hovering five metres above his head.

"Found it?" she asked, smiling, and Harry realized he was probably making no sense at all and was flustered all over again. That happened a lot, around Ginny.

He looked back down, the movement making his head spin. The book fell open in his hands and he squinted at it in the growing dark, flipping pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Here," he said. "'A charm to cure reluctant reversers'. That's what you need, right?"

She dropped suddenly out of the sky again, like she had before, but this time she was smiling.

"Yeah," she said, looking at him with an indecipherable look on her face. "That sounds about right."

There was a lump in his throat, and he swallowed with difficulty and looked back down at the page. "Well, erm, let's try that, then," he said. "All right?"

"All right," she agreed softly, standing very close.

He reached out with one hand to take the broom from her, but she didn't let go of it and instead of the wooden handle, he felt her small hand under his own. Her skin was cold from flying, and she was wearing the little fingerless gloves that Chasers liked, and he felt a shiver run up and down his spine at the contact.

Ginny was still standing awfully close. Looking at her now would be a very bad idea, he felt.

They stood still for a long moment, hands touching lightly on the broom handle. Harry watched the dewy grass intently, not blinking. Slowly, her face moved into his line of sight and then her lips were pressing against his and they were kissing.

It was just like he remembered, and somehow different all at once. The same sweet taste, and the same multitude of freckles filling his vision, but with a slow easy feel that made Harry think he could do this for hours, could stand here kissing Ginny under the trees all night.

And so he did.


End file.
